eaden. "That's right,
Mary," he repeated dully, after a little pause. "You can't beat the
law!"

There followed a period of silence, in which great emotions were vibrant
from heart to heart. Garson was thinking of Mary, and, with the thought,
into his misery crept a little comfort. At least, she would go free.
That had been in the bargain with Burke. And there was the boy, too. His
eyes shot a single swift glance toward Dick Gilder, and his satisfaction
increased as he noted the alert poise of the young man's body, the
strained expression of the strong face, the gaze of absorbed yearning
with which he regarded Mary. There could be no doubt concerning the
depth of the lad's love for the girl. Moreover, there were manly
qualities in him to work out all things needful for her protection
through life. Already, he had proved his devotion, and that abundantly,
his unswerving fidelity to her, and the force within him that made these
worthy in some measure of her.

Garson felt no least pang of jealousy. Though he loved the woman with
the single love of his life, he had never, somehow, hoped aught for
himself. There was even something almost of the paternal in the purity
of his love, as if, indeed, by the fact of restoring her to life he had
taken on himself the responsibility of a parent. He knew that the boy
worshiped her, would do his best for her, that this best would suffice
for her happiness in time. Garson, with the instinct of love, guessed
that Mary had in truth given her heart all unaware to the husband whom
she had first lured only for the lust of revenge. Garson nodded his
head in a melancholy satisfaction. His life was done: hers was just
beginning, now.... But she would remember him--oh, yes, always! Mary was
loyal.

The man checked the trend of his thoughts by a mighty effort of will.
He must not grow maudlin here. He spoke again to Mary, with a certain
dignity.

"No, you can't beat the law!" He hesitated a little, then went on, with
a certain curious embarrassment. "And this same old law says a woman
must stick to her man."

The girl's eyes met his with passionate sorrow in their misty deeps.
Garson gave a significant glance toward Dick Gilder, then his gaze
returned to her. There was a smoldering despair in that look. There
were, as well, an entreaty and a command.

"So," he went on, "you must go along with him, Mary.... Won't you? It's
the best thing to do."

The girl could not answer. There was a clu